New Grace
by Luna C. Starque
Summary: Butters runs into an old friend at the diner. Now rated M, because Chapter 3 gets a little graphic.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: There's only so many times I can go over a story without feedback, so here you are. This is my first chapter fic... Hopefully it goes well. A Creek fic is in the works, too, and it's farther along, but I figured I should post them in chronological order. Anyways, happy reading._

_Luna _

Butters sat in the diner, thinking. At one a.m. in the morning, Butters hadn't been able to sleep, and it had gotten to the point where he needed to get out of his dorm and away from campus.

Now he sat in the near-empty all-night diner, hot chocolate in hand, and observed the other people, his fellow insomniacs.

There was a woman sitting at a table across the room. She was wearing a short skirt and a tight top. Her eyes were puffy, and the makeup was smeared. She sniffled between large gulps of something Butters could only assume was alcoholic. Two men were sitting in the booth behind him. He could hear them talking about the woman. Butters blushed, and then frowned. They weren't saying very nice things.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and two young men walked in. One of them was short, stocky, muscular and brunette, the other was tall, skinny and blonde, with curly hair. The men were laughing loudly, arms around each other. The brunette yanked the blonde's collar, pulling him down to his level, and kissed him unabashedly. The brunette was staggering a bit, and the blonde was supporting him. They made their way to the booth in front of Butters. They reached the booth, and just as they were about to sit down, the blonde paused. "Butters?!"

Butters started. The man was staring at him, a look of amazement on his face. Butters studied the man... there was something familiar in that face... he remembered it nine years old and streaked with tears, he remembered the eyes wide with fear and shifting nervously in their sockets. Now, however, the countenance was calm and confident, eyes exuding warmth. "Bradley? Is that you?"

He smiled. "Yeah! How are you? I haven't seen you since... camp."

Butters nodded eagerly. "I'm fine-- studying theatre at the university-- but how have you been? Not confused anymore, I see," he added, looking at the brunette, who looked slightly befuddled and a little hostile. When he noticed Butters' eyes upon him, he smiled and took Bradley's hand, gripping it possessively.

Bradley looked down at his partner. "Oh, yeah-- this is Conrad. Conrad, this is Butters, my friend from Camp New Grace. Why don't you two get to know each other while I get us some food?" As he left for the counter, Conrad slid into the seat opposite Butters.

Conrad stared at Butters, still smiling. Butters noticed that his smile didn't reach his eyes. His fists were clenched. "Pleased to meet you," he said. He had a slight southern drawl similar to Butters' own, but his words were a little slurred. "Bradley never said anything about you." His last word was more than a little contemptuous. "Or...camp." Butters could tell that this man didn't like him one bit, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. Conrad's blonde boyfriend reappeared with three cheeseburgers and a basket of fries.

"Here, Con, burger and fries. Get something other than beer in your stomach." Bradley set the food down and Conrad began to eat slowly.

"So tell me about Camp...?" Conrad asked between bites. His question was directed only at Bradley.

"New Grace." the blondes said in unison. Conrad glared drunkenly at Butters, and Bradley looked like he was pretending not to notice.

"Oh, yeah. I never did tell you. Here's the story: When I was nine, my parents. being intense homophobes, sent me to this Christian camp to" -- he scowled-- "'pray the gay away.'"

Butters nodded. "You know, I was never quite sure why I was at that camp. Turns out some... asshole stuck his penis in my mouth before I knew what was happening and my dad walked in on us."

Conrad laughed unkindly. Bradley, however, looked a little nonplussed. "So you weren't really confused?"

"Oh, no, I was pretty confused, all right."

"No, I mean _confused_confused."

"Ooooh. No, I don't think so."

"Ah. That's ironic. You know I had the biggest crush on you," said Bradley, chuckling.

"-- Let's go," interrupted an irritated Conrad. "I don't want you around this guy."

Bradley looked confused, and a little apprehensive. Butters couldn't blame him, the drunk's face was dark with contempt. "Who, Butters?" Bradley asked. Conrad scowled.

"Look at the way he's looking at you," he said angrily, jerking his head towards Butters.

"He's not looking at me in any way!"

"Shut up, Brad. You don't know what you're talking about." Conrad seemed really irate now.

Butters felt the need to interrupt. The people in the diner were staring at them, and Bradley looked embarrassed and afraid. "-Excuse me, fellas--"

"No, _you _excuse _me,_asshole! Brad is _mine_, so you stay away from him, you little shit!" Now Conrad was in Butters' face, and Butters could smell the beer on his breath.

Butters was really afraid now. He'd always hated confrontation. He wasn't quite sure what to say, and desperately racked his brains. Thankfully, he didn't need to. Conrad suddenly yawned, sat back in his seat, and closed his eyes.

"He fell asleep," Bradley said wonderingly. Butters looked at Conrad more closely. The brunette was indeed passed out, his head on the table, snoring quietly. "I don't really like him, you know," Bradley said softly. "He's a nut job and an alcoholic. The only person I've ever wanted since I left that camp was you. And now I learn that I can never have you." He smiled sadly. "But you know, Conrad _is _trying to change. He's really sweet when he's sober. If I can't have you, he's the next best thing."

Butters laughed nervously. He was slightly flabbergasted by the revelation that he'd been loved for a decade and not known it. "Well, Bradley, I'm flattered. And I don't really know what to say, to tell the truth."

"I know. I'm sorry I said that. It must have been awkward for you. And I'm sorry for Conrad. Like I said, he's not always like this."

"Well. These things happen." Butters checked his watch. "Oh, hamburgers. I have a performance tomorrow-- er, in six hours. I've gotta go."

"Yeah, me too. I'd better get this one home." A jerk of the head toward his boyfriend. "It was so great to see you again, Butters," he said, standing up and dragging his companion to his feet.

Butters stood up as well. "You too, Bradley. Maybe we'll see each other around sometime." The two young men embraced, and Butters felt a warmth shoot through his body from his feet to the tips of his fingers.

And they parted ways.


	2. Chapter 2

Butters was exhausted. He didn't think he'd done too badly on his performance, a contemporary monologue, but it had fried his brain. The rest of him was fried, too. He'd only had about four hours of sleep. Before his monologue, he'd tried to down some coffee, but he'd made the mistake of drinking it black and had only succeeded in burning his tongue and choking on the bitter taste. Now he was in the diner again, this time with a mug of cream and sugar. Well, there was a bit of coffee, too, but not very much. Butters was reminded of Tweek, his hyperactive childhood friend.

Childhood friends... He was still in shock about the sudden reappearance of Bradley in his life. The curly-haired blonde had changed so much. He seemed so self-assured. Secure in his own gayness. Butters remembered when Bradley had hated himself. What had caused the drastic change? Not that Butters was complaining, he'd been secretly worried about the fate of his gay friend for a long time.

"Well, fancy seeing you here," said a familiar voice.

"Bradley! I was just thinking about you. Where's Conrad?" asked Butters.

"Oh, he's at work. I was bored, so I figured I'd come down here and maybe see if you were around."

"I'm around!" Butters said happily. Bradley smiled and slid into the seat across from him.

"So we never did get around to having a meaningful conversation last night," said Bradley.

"Yeah, I know." Butters paused. "You've changed a lot," he said.

"That's what therapy can do for you," Bradley gave a wry smile. They continued their conversation. Butters learned that Bradley had left Camp New Grace shortly after he himself had. However, his parents had ignored him, insulted him, and generally abused him up until his late teens. "After I turned seventeen, I couldn't take it any more. I ran away from home- my parents didn't come after me. I was almost legal by then anyways."

"Um, hey, Bradley, isn't it kind of painful for you to talk about this stuff?"

"A little," Bradley admitted. "But my doctor says it's healthier to talk about it than to keep it bottled up inside."

"Oh." After Bradley ran away, he'd moved to L.A., where he'd worked as a bartender for a gay bar ever since.

"That's how I met Conrad. He was a regular there for a long time before he asked me out."

"Ah."

"What about you, Butters? What's your life story?"

"It's not very interesting. I went to school, got into acting in high school, and moved here."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that. How _did _you get into acting?"

Butters laughed sheepishly. " I started taking theatre during my freshman year- you have to take some sort of arts class to graduate, I thought theatre would be an easy grade and bring up my GPA," he said. "Anyways, there was this movie," he said. "Starring Susan Sarandon and Christopher Walken. We saw it when I was a sophomore. It was called, 'Who Am I This Time?' The story was about a painfully shy convenience store clerk who's the darling of the town's theatre troupe, and a traveling computer tech girl, if I remember right.

"Anyways, she comes to work in the town and gets cast in the latest play, 'A Streetcar Called Desire,' along Harry, the clerk. I forget the girl's name. Anyway, she falls in love with him. Or his character. She falls in love with his character because he's such a good actor, but outside of rehearsals and performances he won't even talk to her. I forget how it ends, really, but I know they get together.

"So I figured, hey, I'm kinda like Harry. You know, I can't really talk to... people. I thought, maybe if I'm good at this, I'll be able to connect with people, you know?" Butters laughed wryly. "I fell in love with the stage instead. I love being able to not be my useless self for a while."

Bradley frowned. "You're not useless, Butters. Don't think like that. Didn't you meet anyone through acting?"

"I had one girlfriend who acted for a hobby. She dumped me."

"Oh. I'm sorry. Why'd she dump you?" He looked sympathetic.

"She said I was lame and I wasn't tipping her enough."

Bradley looked confused and taken-aback. "Sorry?"

Butters explained. "She worked at Raisins, so I ate there all the time, but I ran out of money from tipping her so much."

"Oh! Okay. I was a little confused for a second there."

There was a pause. "I'm still confused," Butters said quietly.

Bradley looked up and caught Butters' eye. They held each other's gaze.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry about this._

-_Luna_

"Where were you when I got home?!" demanded Conrad, pounding his fist on the counter in their kitchen. "I came home and you were gone! You're _always _ here when I get home!"

Bradley took a deep breath and tried to calm the heart that hammered away inside his chest. He'd seen this behavior in Conrad before when he was drunk, but he hadn't gotten this angry for a long time. Bradley had really thought that his boyfriend had been getting better. "Answer me!" Conrad yelled.

"I was in the diner." Bradley said this relatively calmly, considering his heart was having an epileptic seizure in his chest. Conrad was about to get violent.

"You were with that little son of a bitch Butters, weren't you?" He voice quivered with rage. He advanced towards Bradley, looking menacing despite his height. In fact, he was considerably more muscular than Bradley, and seemed intent on proving it. "Weren't you!"

He put his hands on Bradley's shoulders and shoved. SLAM! Bradley went careening into the wall. The impact sent shocks through his body. and he was vaguely aware of the fact that there were chips in the plaster.

And then cannon balls were blasting into his stomach. Each blow seemed harder than the last, and he was seeing violent explosions of stars. His boyfriend was screaming, and Bradley wasn't sure whether there was coherent speech in the noise or if it was wordless rage. All he was sure of was his own impending death. _I'm going to die. And when I do, all of this will be over. _

Conrad's fists had progressed upwards, and now they were beginning their assault on his face. Bradley was blinded by his own blood, and he could hear himself- "Con, stop! Conrad, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I swear it! Stop, please, please, please..." His words were punctuated with sobs as Conrad beat him mercilessly. "I promise I won't do it again!"

"You're damn right you won't!" Conrad bellowed. The blows ceased, and Bradley opened his eyes nervously. An uneasy calm hung over them. "I'm gonna show you you're my bitch once and for all," Conrad said. His hands went to his belt and Bradley knew what was about to happen.

The belt was off, and Conrad snapped it threateningly. "Take off your shirt."

Bradley whimpered. "I... can't move," he said softly.

"Take it off, you useless fuck!" Crack. The belt landed across Bradley's back, and he screamed in agony. Sobbing, he slowly reached down and took hold of his shirt. It took all his remaining strength to reach up and pull his shirt over his bruised and bloodied body. Conrad snickered as he watched Bradley, whose tears came so thick and fast they ran down his neck and headed toward his stomach, mixing with his blood along the way. The belt flew again, this time hitting Bradley's stomach and causing him to double over in pain. "Take off your pants, too." The pants came off slowly and without protest- Bradley had lost the energy to form words.

Underneath his clothes, the blonde was a mess. Blood and bruises covered his scrawny chest and stomach. He waited in horror as his boyfriend removed his own pants and threw his belt aside. "You brought this on yourself," the brunette was saying. He grabbed Bradley and threw him up against the wall. Bradley had lost all resistance, and all he could do was wait, now the moment of brutal penetration was nearing. The face before him twisted into a drunken leer. A blast of beer-laden breath.

Everything was gone. Unimaginable pain coursed through his body. For a split second, Bradley was aware that he was dying. He heard himself scream in agony. He was being torn apart. And then- he was floating. He was above the scene, watching his boyfriend get off on his pain, and he was filled with a new kind of hurt. He saw his own slight body being thrown against the wall over and over, smearing the wall with his blood. He saw Conrad, eyes filled with hate and lust and madness as he slammed himself repeatedly into Bradley.

At this, Bradley snapped. _If I die, he'll win, _he thought. He focused on his limp, lifeless body, and willed himself back to it. A rushing sound filled his ears until he hit something solid and came to an abrupt stop. His eyes sprang open, and another blast of Conrad's breath on his face let him know that he was back in his own body. His last conscious thought was of Butters.

Bradley blacked out as his boyfriend came all over him.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: This fourth and final chapter is dedicated to __Angecael Gliorixx, because a) she hates "people who make good stories and then abandon them" (Yes, I did stalk your profile) and b) because she cared about this story enough to remind me that I had not finished it. Angecael, I hope this ending suits you. Thanks for your support._

Butters was worried. He sat in the diner, cocoa once again in hand, having given up on coffee. It had been a week since he'd seen Bradley at the diner. He wondered if maybe Bradley had lost interest in him, if he'd decided that Butters wasn't good or cool enough for him… if he'd eventually realized that Butters really was useless.

Even if he hasn't been here because he doesn't like me, Butters thought, I think I deserve some closure. Butters quickly downed his cocoa and paid the bill, and set off into the night.

If Butters had learned anything from the theater, it was how to pretend you were confident. He walked the street, imagining he was Hamlet, the greatest fencer in Elsinore, or John Proctor, strong in the face of anything. Nothing could hurt him, no one could get to him, and darned if he wasn't going to walk into the nearest gay bar and act like he owned the place.

"E-Excuse me," Butters stuttered over the bar to the eccentrically dressed bartender. "Is Bradley here?"

The burly man smiled at him. "Sorry, he's been out for the past week. He's in the hospital with pneumonia. Can I get you a drink? It's on the house."

"Um, no thanks. I, um, don't drink." Butters felt his stomach drop, and a clammy, gray uneasiness crept over him.

"Cute," the bartender chuckled, not noticing Butters's change of mood. "Do you want a virgin piña colada or something, then?"

"I'm seriously fine," Butters insisted. The bartender opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Butters interjected. "Do you know what the number for the hospital is?"

"So, what exactly is your relation to Mr. Knoll?" Asked the petulant secretary at the hospital. Her face was half-covered by two-toned hair, she looked to be about Butters' age.

"Um… brother?" Butters tried to incorporate some of Adler's thoughts on character creation to make his lie more believable.

"Your last names are different." She smacked her bubblegum loudly.

_Hamburgers._

"Uh, we're, uh, half-brothers. Same dad, you know."

"Riiiighht." The secretary rolled her eyes. "He's in room 203."

"Thanks, ma'am!"

"Whatever, just don't fuck him too hard, he's still fragile."

Butters walked away, the girl's comment echoing in his ears.

Bradley looked awful. His face was so swollen his eyes were hardly visible. Nevertheless, Butters recognized the lanky boy immediately. "Bradley—" he choked on his words. He could feel his heart twisting in his chest, and there was a hard, painful lump in his throat.

Very slowly, Bradley rolled over. "Butters," he whispered. "Is… is it really you?"

"Oh my god, Bradley, what happened?"

"Conrad." The single name spoke volumes to Butters.

"Where is he now?"

"In jail, waiting for someone to bail him out. There's going to be a trial… I'm pretty sure the ruling's not going to be in his favor." He seemed reluctant to speak further on the matter.

"Um, let's not talk about that right now… I'm just glad you're safe, and that that no-good, filthy, um, drunken…_bastard_ isn't on the loose."

Bradley smiled sadly. "Me too."

Butters could see that his friend was still hurting, and not only from his many cuts and bruises. "Well, shoot, Bradley," He said softly, lowering himself onto the side of the hospital bed. "Why didn't you call me when this happened? I am your 'accountabilibuddy,' after all."

Bradley chuckled. The sound made Butters's heart jump. All of a sudden, his stomach was full of butterflies; not the kind he usually got, before he went onstage, this was something entirely new… euphoria. Butters felt a soft, long-fingered hand wrap around his own. "You're right, Butters, I should have called you. I should have called you a long time ago."

Their eyes met. It wasn't long for their lips to follow suit. It was a soft kiss, barely even registering as a touch, yet its force nearly knocked Butters off his feet. He pulled away. "Brad," Butters whispered.

"Butters?"

Butters ran his fingers through Bradley's curly mop of hair. "I… I don't think I'm confused anymore."

-fin


End file.
